It used to be a thing within
tickle in my fatal friend,
in disorder all depends
shaped through the key of a simple mile
lone to dismiss by a passerby
trickery to the Autumn's Eye
cling on to the edge swing slow
bargain basement news as near below
there's puddy in the street light flow

on exchange to the evening tide
amazed through the tocking of the ego
strange between the lights gone dim outside upon the rodeo
icy ledge from ear to ear all draw a bit near
the prisoner to inflate the official cause to read